


Camping

by Firelight_and_Rain



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Character Study, Chaste Relationship, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firelight_and_Rain/pseuds/Firelight_and_Rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sole is confused upon finding their robotic partner resting on one of the beds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camping

It was unusual, to be the only living thing around. Even wandering the commonwealth, the part of Vic’s mind that had been attuned to the bustle of family life, and adapted perversely to the ghoulish and monstrous life left behind by the end of the world, was rarely quiet. They knew, deep within their bones, that they were alone.

Odd, that they chose this, heading out of Diamond City, they reflected glumly. Could have stopped by Goodneighbour and dragged Hancock off. Good company, capable of scaring the uglies off their back, living, breathing. Would probably be trying to lure them out of their work and to whatever served as bed out here. If it had still been light out, that would be an annoyance, if a fun one - as it was it would be an excuse to sit their ass on the ground, pronto, after a long day.

The sole survivor sighed heavily, gave the radio’s screw one last rough twist, and slammed the cover shut.

The stars hadn’t been touched by the bombs. Of course that made sense; sometimes, it was the best source of faith they could find, aside from their partner, wherever in the ruined settlement he was currently hiding. Sometimes they couldn’t stand it - that anything could be above what had changed everything for them.

The stars provided plenty enough light for them to go between dead houses. They could have turned their pipboy light on, but they were curious as to what Nick could possibly be doing that was more interesting to him than his apparent fetish for their tech talents. In the second small house, mostly on instinct, they stopped, and let their keen eyesight translate the shape on the ruined bed and the bare glint of electric yellow.

They couldn’t help but smile. Nick’s odd imitative habits were hopelessly endearing, even if a bit sad. They hadn’t known about this one. They knew he had a bedroom but since the chain-smoking synth had also gone to the trouble of putting a “no smoking” sign in his office they’d learned not to read too much into anything like that.

Nick stirred and propped himself up on an arm the moment they stepped inside. Vic wasn’t the only one with keen senses (they had asked, awhile ago, that Nick refer to them as Carter since ‘Vic’ was far too close to ‘Nick’ and they wanted to refer to the synth as ‘Nicky’ since the rest of Diamond City did anyway - Valentine had started referring to them as ‘partner’ instead).

“No, don’t get up. I just finished my work,” they said, voice dropped unnecessarily low. Robots did not need sleep. Probably weren’t even capable of it. “And I am not going to risk fighting Yao Guai in the dark.”

Nick nodded. “Shoring up for the night, then?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll take watch. ‘Only stands to reason.” They suspected he was doing his smug little half-smile at that. They were partial to that smile.

They walked over and sat on the bed next to him, and he scooted over, practically scrunching up. “Hey, it’s not like we haven’t killed everything in a half-mile radius already.”

“Something on your mind, partner?” Vic thought that Nick could be downright pretty, at times, granted not in a way that many now or two hundred years ago would understand, if they tried to explain it. This was not one of those times. But his eerie appearance was somehow welcome, that someone so strange, even strange by Commonwealth standards, could be so close and so trustworthy.

The sole survivor flopped down onto the bed, letting loose a small cloud of dirt. “Don’t bother standing around in the boring wasteland tonight. It’s a sleepover.”

They trusted that Valentine wouldn’t mistake their intent. Partly because of how close they trusted they were, similar in ways that kept unearthing themselves like buried caps, and partly because of his persistent failure to think he could have any part of life that the “Old Nick” had claimed, should he happen to want it. Nick only took a beat to process. “I don’t think a bucket of bolts will make a very good pillow, doll.”

Vic smiled up at the ragged face, taking his arm - which he yielded with the subliminal noise of motors, something someone else might not even have been able to hear - and putting it around their shoulders. “I’m sure that there’s some adage about sleeping alone. And I do want to. Just sleep, I mean.”

Nick chuckled, and Vic blessed whatever bastard scientist had put so much effort into keeping that lovely deep burr in his voice. “I figured. A lot of people have to go it alone these days, and it doesn’t do wonders for the human psyche. Happy to help.”

Vic ended up using Nick’s arm as a pillow, and then tried to pull his trenchcoat over themself - which didn’t really work, as the synth sensibly wanted to keep a line of sight to the open door. As much as the sole survivor, yes, loved Nick Valentine, he hadn’t been built with cuddling in mind. A pity. But his skin yielded much like human skin, and the mechanisms keeping him running gave off a pittance of warmth, and a steady quiet hum, and the light pressure of his hand on their shoulder spoke of a caring guardian. These were welcome comforts alongside his simple presence, if uncanny ones.

A companionable silence had dragged its soft wings over them before Vic asked, soft and sleepy, “Nicky, why do you pretend to sleep?”

Nick hummed in thought, and Vic felt the vibration of it. “It’s a silly thing for an old robot to do, I know. Usually I’m too busy what with one thing and another to do it anyway. Out on my own, I don’t like how easy it is to forget what life used to be like. Hell. It isn’t fun to think of myself like that, but maybe I owe it to who I used to be to keep old habits. Part of me is still pretty sure that a bit of shut-eye will do me good.”

Vic knew that the chain smoking was a habit; the “sleeping” was a choice. But then, Valentine deserved all the comforts he could give himself. Vic’s heart constricted painfully. They wished they could do more. Often life seemed heavier, more constricted, with somehow fewer dimensions than before they woke, but it couldn’t be anything like being made into a synth.

But Vic didn’t regret what Valentine was. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be there with them. It was just another shift of perspective, trying to find happiness with a beat-up old pre-war ghost in the form of a robot.

They leaned a bit further into his side. “It’s also silly to feel guilty about surviving the end of the world and keeping up the good fight, Nicky. You’re really you. Take your naps if you want. But.” They yawned. “They’re more fun with friends.”

“Hell of a way to survive,” he said, but for what it was worth, sounded comforted.

“I never said life made sense since waking up two lifetimes later.” They turned their head, and on impulse pressed a light kiss to the shoulder of his equally battered old coat. “It’s still life, though. Friends, family, love, uncomfortable beds, adventure, stupid people. Finding a reason to give a shit. Sometimes, Nicky, you’re the only thing I think I recognize in this crazy new world.”

Nick stared at them for a long moment, before, gingerly, resting his forehead against Vic’s temple. “It’s been a pleasure to travel with someone with a right rare sense of decency, even before the bombs fell, and yeah, I should know. You give me too much credit. I guess looking for the good in people for so long meant karma thought she owed me something.” He gave a disbelieving noise, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, so quiet that the sole survivor could hear the slight tinniness under the texture of his voice. “Go to sleep, partner. I’ve got plenty to think on.”

The sole survivor gave an agreeable hum and folded as best they could into the crook of his shoulder, tired and chilled but warm with peace and ironclad faith in their safety in that moment, already sinking into sleep.


End file.
